


Eleven Letters

by Lilian_Silver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 21:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian_Silver/pseuds/Lilian_Silver
Summary: Hermione and Draco study for NEWTs in the kitchen at Number 12 Grimauld Place





	Eleven Letters

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot I originally wrote off of a tumblr prompt: “they warned me about you, I should’ve listened.”
> 
> It spread like wild after I posted it and I never got around to sharing it here. Maybe you’ve read it already, but maybe not! Either way, hope you enjoy 😉

“They warned me about you, I should have listened.”

Hermione scoffed, gaping at him incredulously.

“Draco Malfoy, how dare you!”

“What? It’s true. Harry and Ron said you’d be impossible as a study partner. Clearly they were drawing on personal experience.”

They sat at the kitchen table of Grimmauld place, NEWT practice exams and copious pages of notes strewn across the table.

She rolled her eyes and gestured to the table top.

“What I’m saying is this level of disorganization must first be dealt with before we can adequately prepare! Besides, I didn’t take you for a slob, Malfoy.”

“It’s organized chaos, Granger. If you look closely you’ll notice the pattern.”

She squinted her eyes at him and then down at the pages. In all the time he’d been a spy for the order, they’d never studied together. She’d always known he had a brilliant mind, of course, but school had been the least of their worries. Now that the war was over and they were on to normal life, completing their schoolwork seemed the next correct action for both Draco and Hermione, while most of their other friends had opted to take ministry jobs and professional quidditch team positions.

And so there she was, in Harry’s kitchen during Christmas break, studying with Draco Malfoy of all people. Well, she supposed it wasn’t far fetched, given that Malfoy Manor had been reduced to cinders in the war, along with Draco’s family.

She supposed in some odd way, she was sort of like his family now.

Sort of.

They certainly spent a lot of time together. Her choice to sit with him at the Slytherin table was a mixture of political statement and convenience, given that none of her fellow 8th year Gryffindors had returned to Hogwarts. Then there were Prefect rounds. Yes, she saw a lot of him, but they hadn’t been alone together outside of school until now.

She leaned in, keen to quickly work out whatever he was insinuating about his so-called organization of papers. Her eyes scanned the notes furiously for some glimmer of recognition. She was the seeker in desperate need to end the game quickly.

Where was that damned golden ball?

He leaned in next to her and murmured, “Concentrate now, Granger. Surely you see it already? Or is that brilliant mind no longer as sharp as it once was?”

  
She gasped and turned to glare at him, not having realized how close he’d gotten. Their faces were centimeters apart.

The air between them hummed with anticipation. Of what, she hardly wanted to know.

Then her heart began to pound as he smirked, but did not break eye contact.

“I’ll tell you what,” he murmured. “I’m going to go pour some firewhisky. Once you’ve worked it out, come and join me in the sitting room with your answer.”

With that, he stood and exited the room, the swinging kitchen door flapping in his wake. The silence was deafening and her head spun. She focused back down on the task at hand, now certain that there was indeed some hidden intent in the way he’d laid the pages out.

She’d been right, he was no slob. She knew it! The sensation of being correct about that gave her a renewed sense of vigor and determination to also be on the same page about the… pages.

Firstly, she recognized that the notes were a mix of such a variety of topics, they didn’t even make sense being used in the same study session. Well, that surely meant he hadn’t actually intended to use the content on the pages, but was instead grouping them together due to some other convenience they must be affording him.

Twisting and turning her head to see the pile from different angles, she slowly did begin to see a pattern. The practice exams were a bottom layer of sorts, covered then by chapter summary notes for various books, all beginning with bold titles at the top. The whole lot was covered with scraps of miscellaneous notes that seemed to have no rhyme or reason for being there. Their placement, however, seemed somehow deliberate. Many were layered directly over the chapter note titles, making it so that certain letters peeked through, almost as if being framed by the top layer.

Looking left to right repeatedly, she recognized that there may be a message in the framed letters.

But… her brain whirred into action, dismissing this idea as utterly ridiculous. Why would he be writing her a message?

Then again, his abrupt exit from the room and his words, “join me in the sitting room with your answer,” made it clear that he was asking her a question.

What a peculiar way to do so, though.  
Her face scrunched up as she looked back down, determined to get to the bottom of this quickly.

“Alright, Hermione, focus,” she mumbled aloud.

Chapter 7 of Numerology and Gramatica notes were on the far left, the top scraps framing a letter C.

She’d begin there, withdrawing a small scrap of blank parchment from her bag and writing “C” before moving on to scan the next set of chapter notes. The “a” was framed. She added it. Next was a subtitle on notes for arithmancy, the “n” framed out clearly.

She moved down the line, focusing on nothing more than identifying which letters were clearly being pointed out.

  
When she was done, she looked down at her final line of eleven letters and gasped. They were scrunched together, but her mind instantly put the spaces where she knew they belonged and added a question mark at the end. More of a request, actually. And one that made her shiver. Her ability to breathe became suddenly labored.

Glancing up at the kitchen door, she thought of fleeing. She could avoid this. Could avoid him. Go back to Hogwarts for break. Sit at the Gryffindor table again. Withdraw as prefect in service of her studies.

But she could not ignore a subtle yet suddenly growing yearning in her belly. In her chest. In her throat. The sensation was enough to make her faint.

Without any semblance of a plan in her head, she moved toward the door and pushed it open with a surprisingly sweaty hand. The other was clutching on to the scrap of parchment by her side. She walked imperiously into the sitting room. He was standing by the fireplace, holding a glass of firewhisky. When he looked up at her, she was startled by the vulnerability in his eyes.  
It was all in his eyes.

They conveyed a sense of panicked desperation she’d never seen there, and her breath caught in her chest as they stared at one another for who knew how long.

Finally, she forced her feet to move closer to him. Her proximity alone would be an answer, but she wanted to hear him ask it.

Once they were directly in front of one another, she reached up and took the drink from his hand, slowly placing it on the mantle.

She stared deeply into his eyes and said, “Ask me.” Her voice came out as a throaty whisper.

He swallowed and seemed to be steeling himself for what he was about to do. The moment stretched on longer than she wanted it to, so she added a, “please.”

He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed again.

“Hermione… can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she breathed out almost before he was done asking.

Stepping closer to her, he placed his left hand on her waist and cupped her cheek with his right. She lifted up onto her toes in anticipation, and he dipped his head down to meet her. As their lips pressed together, her entire body became suffused with a tingling sensation that made her unsure if she could stay standing. Their lips came apart and they both let out shuddering breaths before returning to the kiss once again, and deepening it. He pulled her body into his and brought his hand up to grip her curls as they simultaneously parted their lips and began tasting one another for the first time.

He was like the initial bite of a decadent dessert at a fine restaurant, meticulously crafted to be intoxicating and luxurious all at once. Sinful, but with no guilt attached. Pure pleasure.

  
She could not help but let out a small moan of delight, and was surprised to hear him make an identical noise at that very same moment.

Then they both began to laugh, their grins making it impossible to keep kissing. He pulled back slightly, but then gave her a few small pecks on the lips as they continued to let out the laughter at their shared satisfaction. He pressed his forehead to hers and reached his hands down to entwine with both of hers.

“Alright, now I think I can study with you,” he said.

She pulled back and quirked an eyebrow at him.

He grinned. “I don’t think I could have kept my mind on anything but doing that.”

She flashed her best impression of his signature smirk at him. “And now?”  
He stepped into her, hands on her waist and legs straddling hers, dipping his head back down to her lips.

“Now you can reward me appropriately for getting the right answers.”

Feeling a surge of mischief, she pulled back just before his lips connected with hers and said, “Alright then, let’s get to it.”

Then, she turned and strode towards the kitchen, faintly registering what sounded like a growl coming from him as he grabbed his glass and followed obediently.


End file.
